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<title>Twenty Five Days of Amgstmus by 小菓子 (Officer_Jennie)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28095288">Twenty Five Days of Amgstmus</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Officer_Jennie/pseuds/%E5%B0%8F%E8%8F%93%E5%AD%90'>小菓子 (Officer_Jennie)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:40:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,021</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28095288</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Officer_Jennie/pseuds/%E5%B0%8F%E8%8F%93%E5%AD%90</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm unoriginal and didn't want to come up with Twenty Five Titles :| So here, happy crimus</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Senju Tobirama/Original Male Character(s), Uchiha Madara/Original Male Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Forgetting to Eat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIntellectualWeeb/gifts">TheIntellectualWeeb</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Characters are not all mine. The canon ones are obvious, but Ryouji and Ryouya belong to the giftee. New tags to be added. Any possible triggers will be clearly tagged and stated at the beginning of their relevant chapters, though I do not expect to tag much worse than 'blood' or 'canon-typical violence'.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ship: Ryouya/Tobirama</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: Forgetting to eat</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>His head was in his hands when the knocking came.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s unlocked.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before the door had a chance to open, Tobirama was back to his notes, trying to remember what discovery he’d been chasing only a minute before. Despite the hours that he’d poured over the findings, it still took precious seconds of skimming the papers tossed out in front of him to remember: seed casings. Right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You missed dinner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From anyone else, that would have tasted of accusation. But after knowing Ryouya for nearing three decades Tobirama knew better. He leaned back in his chair and looked over his shoulder towards the door, Ryouya having come no further in than the welcome mat right inside the doorway. Smile as soft as always, respectful as always.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tobirama wasn’t sure he deserved him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No experiments this time.” He held up his hands, staying leaned back in his chair, his shoulders feeling heavy. Ryouya accepted his invitation with a small nod, removing his home slippers and placing them on the welcoming mat, facing towards the door, and putting on the plain dark blue ones Tobirama had purchased just for him and left at the entrance. The whole while he kept a foil wrapped plate even in his left hand, making sure the contents didn’t spill out onto the anally kept floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last thing Tobirama wanted or needed was contaminants messing with his experiments, or any sort of contaminants from his experiments messing up his home. He was really and truly blessed to live with someone - finally - that understood this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Food being brought into the lab kinda counted as a contaminant, however. Tobirama frowned even as Ryouya came over and leaned down just enough to place his lips gently against Tobirama’s forehead, still holding the plate instead of placing it on the desk. It was close enough now that Tobirama could smell it, and he narrowed his eyes at the foil that hid his favorite fish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sweet of Ryouya to bring him some. Also suspicious, considering Ryouya’s actions </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> had more meaning than what they seemed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That, however, was something Tobirama was working on. He closed his eyes and let his head drop back, feeling Ryouya’s nose brush lightly against his own before his husband kissed him. Ever so softly, ever so gentle, as Tobirama knew the man’s soul to be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryouya could be conniving, could be cold and manipulative and whatever the world required him to be, but past all of that Tobirama knew he was a good man. A man that held his heart and love like no other ever could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He also knew exactly what Ryouya was doing, and could not, even in the slightest, be upset at him for this minor manipulation - it was something anyone would do if their loved one was not eating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their lips finally parted but Ryouya did not move far, Tobirama still feeling him just a breath away. Ryouya’s lips were softer than his, his husband spending much less time in air conditioned rooms and sterile environments than himself (and also not having an aversion to the average lip balm, also unlike Tobirama), and just that barest of touches had Tobirama more relaxed than he’d been in the several days he’d been hiding in his laboratory.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should I leave it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tobirama opened his eyes. Ryouya was there, his face as calm and as peaceful as ever, his free hand coming up to brush the back of his fingers against Tobirama’s cheek. The fingers stilled and stayed there, warm, steady.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once, his life had not been near this peaceful. War and his own wrongdoings had haunted his every step, and the latter still, to that very day, kept him awake and far too aware of what he was capable of. His eyes tired, his body exhausted, his stomach empty - and yet he fought away sleep to keep the nightmares away, the thought of food turning his stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not even the thought of his favorite dinner was appealing to him. But the thought of causing his husband any pain (any </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> pain. Tobirama was no expert in reading people, especially not those so adept at hiding how they feel, but he knew his husband. Ryouya was there because he was worried, and was caring for Tobirama in the best and most unobtrusive way he knew how) - causing Ryouya pain was not an option.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m just about done anyway.” A lie, given Tobirama couldn’t even remember how far he’d gotten or what he’d really been doing  beyond “seed casings” (he knew he’d been trying to find a way to make some seeds hardier, but which seeds he’d been looking at and what he’d discovered so far were beyond his memory’s reach at the moment), but it didn’t matter. Ryouya stepped back and allowed Tobirama to stretch and get out of his chair, not even commenting on how stiff Tobirama moved as he did. Sitting for so long in one place was far rougher on him nowadays than it used to be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I already ate, but I was thinking about having tea,” Ryouya mused as they left the lab, switching slippers as they did to keep the house clean and free of anything Tobirama might have been working on recently. Tobirama merely hummed at the thought of company, knowing it was better to have Ryouya’s presence there to encourage him to eat anyway, and also simply liking the thought of sitting in the peace his husband brought him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As they walked, Tobirama took his husband’s free hand, it’s warmth a stark contrast to his own always freezing fingers. Ryouya squeezed his hand back, and Tobirama followed him, letting his husband guide him away from what disturbed their peace.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Bedside Vigil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ship: N/A<br/>TW: Death, Angst</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>This would not be the first time Ryouji had failed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held the elder’s hand in both of his own, their weak grip being the only thing keeping him from busying his hands trying. Their wife’s broken wishes being the only things holding him in place, seated on the cushion next to the woman’s death bed, each ragged breath she struggled through destroying him just that little bit more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had struggled through this illness for nearly a year, and her struggling was almost over. It was her wishes, and her wife’s wishes, for the fighting to end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No book he’d poured himself over had given him any answers. He could feel the festering inside her, the large mass growing inside of her lungs, causing her to cough and throw up blood and made even the simple act of breathing laborsome. But knowing where it was didn’t give him the answers to how to fix it - fix her, </span>
  <em>
    <span>cure</span>
  </em>
  <span> her - and the way that mass felt when his chakra brushed against it haunted his dreams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Medication after medication had failed him. Books after scroll after medical expert had failed him. And his time was out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her wife was sleeping restlessly in the guest room down the hall, leaving Ryouji as the only watcher that night. Sleep had evaded him anyway, and seeing as he could not help her in any other way - could not help either of them - he could do this. He could hold her hand, could watch as her chest rose and fell irregularly, could listen and watch and wait for her last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would not be his first failure. It would not be his last. But he would not forget this, and could not forgive himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His happuri was cold against his skin. His eyes were dry as his heart cried for her, his own breathing hitched by the smallest of shudders as he felt her hand go limp in his grasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her last breath was like so many before it: labored, painful, rasping. After half a minute of silence Ryouji finally shifted, only holding her hand in one of his own as he stretched out the other, finding the pulse point at her neck that was still beneath his fingertips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dawn was coming shortly. In another hour or two, the clan would start to liven up, those with normal working hours waking and getting ready for the day ahead. Ryouji wiped the back of his glove at the underside of his eyes, sitting back on his cushion, holding the dead woman’s hand in his lap as he waited for the sun to rise. No need to break her wife’s sleep. No one expected her to last the night. And he did not trust his voice to not betray him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I meant to have one a day, but it's the 15th and I'm very behind :| oh well.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Scar to Remember</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ship: Ryouji/Madara<br/>CW: Scars, Sexy times</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Their dance was fire. Madara’s whole spirit was fire, his body warm under his hands, his heat wrapped around him in a way that had Ryouji struggling to keep his eyes open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Madara was always beautiful. Grew more beautiful each day that they shared together, his confidence growing beyond the superficial mask he wore in public. His thighs squeezed at his hips as Madara tilted his head, letting his hair spill like a waterfall of ink over his shoulder, black eyes heated as they watched the way Ryouji reacted to him, moved with him, drank in every inch of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sweat on his skin shone in the moonlight peeking through the window, curtains displayed by the light breeze that kissed the both of them. Ryouji’s hand moved up Madara’s strong thigh, the pillows propping his head and shoulders up allowing him the perfect view of his lover’s flexing muscles, the delicious sight of Madara taking every inch of him over and over, darkening his eyes with desire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d planned on moving his hand up to Madara’s already eager cock, having wanted to bring his love pleasure - Ryouji itched just laying there and experiencing instead of participating, but his love had wanted this, had wanted to ride him with Ryouji’s yukata loose and spilling off of his shoulders. And by the </span>
  <em>
    <span>gods</span>
  </em>
  <span>, did Madara look perfect in his clothes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> But Madara moved before his hand could reach its destination. Shifted so he could bend low, his hands finding Ryouji’s skin. His lips followed shortly after, their rhythm slowing, losing its grinding touch, though the heat between them did not lessen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryouji sighed, finally letting his eyes close, running his hands up his lover’s back as Madara kissed up his sternum, pausing at a stray cut scar he found on his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was not the only scar Madara kissed. Ryouji tensed as Madara’s lips found the one at his throat - the freshest scar Ryouji had, the one whose wound had nearly cost him his life naught but a year before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let his love kiss it, knowing it was care and affection and the fears of </span>
  <em>
    <span>what ifs</span>
  </em>
  <span> that had Madara’s lips there. But the wounds beyond the scar were bleeding, and after only a few seconds Ryouji moved away from the touch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryouji couldn’t answer him out loud. Couldn’t hear the voice that sounded nothing like his own rasp out between them. Instead, he shook his head, leaving it at that - and, blessedly, Madara left it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Madara’s lips did a good job of distracting him, and slowly - through their caresses and gentle kisses - Ryouji was able to relax again, making love that spring night as if they had all the world to themselves.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Infected Wound</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ship: Tobirama/Shokashi<br/>CW: Infected wound, Sho being adorable</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You’ll have to sit still if you don’t want this to hurt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shokashi squirmed, doing his best to stay focused on anything but the burning, throbbing pain shooting up his arm from the wound on his palm. It was already hurting, hurting </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Tobirama hadn’t even touched it yet. Hadn’t even disinfected it either. All he’d done is hold Shokashi’s hand and examined the wound closely, his glasses somehow not falling off from their place at the tip of his nose, his face calm enough to not give away any potential feelings he had on the matter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The matter being, of course, that Shokashi had been extremely stupid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is going to sting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It already stings.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tobirama, thankfully, ignored his whiny comment. He let go of his hand for a moment, screwing the lid off the liquid fire bottle that would soon no doubt be making Shokashi cry - he squirmed some more, double checking that he was indeed sitting quite firmly on his non-injured hand. It’s not like he’d hit anyone instinctively from pain before, but Shokashi really wasn’t going to take a change whenever he had surely already annoyed or pissed Tobirama off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that Tobirama was showing that, but, from what Shokashi had heard, he’d left quite a bit of his spitfire nature in the past. Which just made a younger Tobirama sound quite terrifying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moment Tobirama took his hand again, Shokashi tensed, having to fight to keep his jaw from clenching. But even tensing and </span>
  <em>
    <span>knowing</span>
  </em>
  <span> it would hurt didn’t stop the noise he made when the disinfectant touched his wound.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was such a child. All of his brothers had fought for years in bloody battles, his father had lost a limb before the war finally took his life, and his mother had gone out only a week after </span>
  <em>
    <span>childbirth</span>
  </em>
  <span> and had slain enemy after enemy before she fell. And here he was, barely able to sit still, not at all able to keep back the tears just from his wound being cleaned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t have let it get this bad, Sho.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There it was. Shokashi’s eyes watered even further, despite only hearing gentle admonishment in Tobirama’s tone. He knew Tobirama would be disappointed in him, and it wasn’t like anyone could blame him. The wound should have been treated days before, not left to fester and get so bad. He didn’t even need to hear a lecture on how infections could spread elsewhere, get into his bloodstream (somehow, he wasn’t sure on the specifics), and hurt him so bad he could even die from it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t need to hear it, because he already </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And yet he’d been too much of a child over the wound, and had left it alone on his travels home, telling himself Tobirama would do a better job of cleaning it up than he could anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which wasn’t entirely wrong, but he knew the idiocy behind that thought process. Knew it and had ignored it, and it had led to this: the wound festering and oozing, him crying, and Tobirama cleaning it while thinking less of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took an eternity for Tobirama to tend to his wound. Disinfecting it, cleaning the puss out, making sure there was no tissue that needed to be removed. It involved far too much alcohol and far too much poking and prodding, all applied and done with the gentlest of care, with precision as well, but none of that stopped it from hurting worse than anything else in Shokashi’s recent memory. Perhaps the resetting of one of his leg bones had been worse, but he’d been so little when he’d fallen out of that old oak near the Uchiha compound that it was more conjecture than anything else that it had hurt terribly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was something he was sure he wouldn’t forget though. Sitting in Tobirama’s kitchen, having his palm ripped apart (that’s what it felt like anyway), wanting to wilt so far into the ground that Tobirama couldn’t see him anymore. Hard to think of someone lowly when they’re already melded with the ground beneath you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite his dower thoughts, those were the sweetest words Shokashi had heard in a lifetime. He breathed a breath of relief, not even having it in him to wince at how it shuddered, finally removing his uninjured hand from beneath his buttocks to wipe away the tears that had made tracks down his cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bandaging wasn’t all that bad, at least. Tobirama made sure to tie it tight enough that it wouldn’t come loose, but he didn’t tie it so tight to make it hurt any more. And when he was done he paused, still holding Shokashi’s hand in his own, an odd look crossing his face as he did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Odd for Tobirama, anyway. Shokashi was awfully good at reading people, but this was an expression that he hadn’t seen Tobirama have before - and even the context of the situation made it difficult for him to read. He didn’t look upset. He didn’t look disappointed, or like he was going to go on some long lecture about how Shokashi should have cleaned it himself or should have been better versed in medicine so that he could have fully treated it on his own, or should have gone to the hospital instead of bothering him at home over his wounds-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The bandages will have to be change tomorrow.” His softer tone shook Shokashi right out of his spiraling thoughts, and he was very thankful to notice that Tobirama had not looked up, and therefore wouldn’t have seen his eyes starting to tear up all over again. “It’s likely the wound will need to be cleaned again as well, though it won’t be anything like today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least there was that. Shokashi sniffed and hated how audible it was, already not looking forward to dealing with even part of what he just went through again the next day. Not even the fact that Tobirama still hadn’t let go of his hand could make that any better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shokashi.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was a little scared to look over at Tobirama with him directly naming him. Having </span>
  <em>
    <span>full</span>
  </em>
  <span> named him - every child who grew up with a nickname knew things were Serious when their full first name got dropped. But he looked over at Tobirama anyway, and finally found an expression he could read as easily as he could most any other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t disappointment or anger, or admonishment, or even the face of a doctor with their patient. No, Tobirama’s face had softened, and the way he gently squeezed Shokashi’s hand when he looked over spread some pleasant warmth through him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come back tomorrow,” Tobirama said, even his voice taking a softer tone than before. “I’ll take care of it for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And never in his life had Shokashi been more okay with needing care from another.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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